


Waiting

by aftersoon (notboldly)



Category: The Avengers (2012), TiMER (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, First Time, M/M, Romance, Set During Canon, Slash, Soulmate Clocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-23 16:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/624202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notboldly/pseuds/aftersoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TiMERs were supposed to make the hunt for true love easy, but for Bruce and Tony, they served more as reminders of what they couldn't and shouldn't have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

Waiting

Although the TiMER had been relatively commonplace by the time Bruce turned fourteen, his own installation didn't take place until six years later. Part of that was money concerns, since Bruce had been raised by parents who—while not exactly frugal—had budgets that they took very seriously, except on the occasions when Brian Banner _needed_ a drink. Spending a hundred dollars on a device that was the very definition of a luxury item wasn't something Bruce could reasonably justify, not when he was working for minimum wage and had books and food and tuition to consider. There were other reasons he delayed the installation, of course—the typical fear of commitment, the surge of rebellion (minor and rarely acknowledged, in Bruce's case), the desire to focus on his field rather than eternal love—but money was the biggest reason, the reason he always offered when people seemed curious.

He finally "took the plunge" a month after his twentieth birthday, and that was mainly because of the _looks_. Usually TiMERs weren't a subject anyone was impolite enough to ask about outright, and Bruce wore long sleeved shirts to avoid the issue, an endeavor aided by lab coats and long lab hours in his second year of college. However, there was only so much covering he could do, and occasionally he would be writing or preparing a sample, intricate work, and his sleeve would shorten a few condemning inches, the fabric bunched around his elbow. Everyone was curious; they all were, even Bruce, and so he didn't blame them for looking. The _looks_ he received afterwards, however—sympathetic, confused, distrustful, disturbed—were nearly unbearable, and so he scraped together the money for the initial fee, planned to work the subscription into his monthly budget, and took the plunge.

The pain was sharp but fleeting, and it faded almost entirely when he saw the numbers appear on the tiny screen. His hands were shaking when he touched them, and he felt the clock almost hum under his fingertips. He let out a breath, and Matchmaker Jonathon patted him on the shoulder with an awkward "congratulations" that Bruce took as sincere regardless.

8141 days and change—it would alter if he moved time zones, of course, and he did the math quickly. He would be somewhere in his early forties when he met his One, but that wasn't so bad. He'd seen and heard of worse, and although twenty-two years seemed like an absurd amount of time to wait for anything, he could imagine it was worth it. More importantly, however, the relief of seeing the numbers, whatever they were, made him dizzy.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd thought it would be blank.

****

Howard hadn't been a believer in the TiMER at first, but like every Stark with a problem, he studied and analyzed and worked until only reality was left. After meeting with everyone from the CEO of TiMER Industries to the engineers of the revolutionary device, Howard finally conceded that the science was sound and brilliant, and then he followed this pronouncement by buying the majority share in TiMER Industries' stock. It was just his way, roundabout and a little too aggressive, of saying that he approved.

When Tony turned thirteen, he was the first in his circle of friends to receive a TiMER. Technically speaking, he was younger than the preferred age but not by much, and puberty—and _girls, girls, girls_ —had been on his mind a lot lately. When filling out the required paperwork, Tony had been eager enough to get to the good part, but Howard had stopped him from answering blindly. On the slot where it said "preferred gender," Howard had him select "none." Just to be sure.

When the TiMER read as blank, Howard was disappointed but understanding. Tony's mother, though…she had patted Tony on the head, smiled, and told him his day would come eventually. He just had to be patient, and he was so much smarter than his peers already; if there was any way to find his One sooner, he had the ability to do it.

Tony didn't tell her that finding out his TiMER was blank was the single happiest moment in his life.

****

Everything changed with the Hulk, there was no denying it, but for Bruce, his first life changing moment came much sooner.

When he was twenty-three, he fell in love. He didn't plan to, because he had a TiMER and so did she, but Amy was brilliant and passionate and so _vibrant_ that he found it impossible to look at her with anything less than awe and admiration. She was different than him in a lot of ways, the product of a happy childhood with seven siblings and more cousins than she could count, but she made him laugh and told jokes about bacteria growth without shame and never, ever let him hide in the corner. Perhaps that was why he liked her so much right from the onset: she was braver than he could ever hope to be.

Although it never went further than the occasional kiss during study sessions or the occasional dinner and a movie with them holding hands in the back row, Bruce knew he loved her. She smiled at him and his heart was light, held aloft by fulfillment and affection and happiness. He thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, of babies and a future removed from the ticking clock on his wrist. Nineteen years…there was a life in there that should be lived rather than just waiting, and maybe, if Amy was willing, he could live it with her. He wanted to.

Bruce never asked about her TiMER, about the numbers pressed into the clock on her skin. He figured they had time…but she didn't warn him.

He had to watch Amy's TiMER go off for someone else, a pretty teacher's aide named Harriet, when they were comparing notes in nonorganic chemistry. Amy and Harriet hated each other on sight, obviously being one of the lucky few couples that went from hate to love over time. It wasn't instant attraction, but Bruce knew. And he knew he had loved her, more than anything, when his heart broke.

****

Tony exploited his blank TiMER with more concentration than he did almost anything, and he spent his teenage and early adult years being "that guy," the one who broke hearts and led good girls astray. It helped that he did it with a fortune to spare and he always, _always_ made sure that no one got hurt past the initial emotional devastation, but the fact was that Tony almost never slept in the same bed twice, his shallow goals aided by a little pity brought on by a blank clock. It worked out well for him, because the women he chose—with few exceptions—never wanted more than his money, his time, his influence, and his body. Usually in that order.

Rhodey—blessed Rhodey, who'd met his One when he was _fourteen_ , the poor man—always told Tony that he was playing a losing game, and Tony humored him, mostly. Obie often said something similar, usually about how the company was reflected in all Tony's actions, and couldn't he just _think_? Tony, however, refused to see how spending his nights with always alternating but always beautiful women could be bad. Even when he spent time with the occasional man (good call on that, Howard) and saw the resulting media backlash, Tony didn't see how he was living anything but an ideal life, as the envy of his peers and the nation's favorite brilliant-but-incorrigible son.

Or at least, that was the story he maintained until he met Pepper. Virginia "Pepper" Potts was younger than him by a few years at least, and she was endlessly competent, a born leader and a natural at Tony-wrangling, something that was a time honored sport by that point. She fit so perfectly in his life that it was like she was made for it, and Tony, for the first time, wondered if maybe his TiMER wasn't blank so much as broken. He asked, because he'd never been known for his tact, and he was rewarded with the first _slightly_ unprofessional smile she'd ever given him.

Then she showed him her own TiMER. It was also blank, but—and this she was certain of—it worked perfectly. Numbers had flashed across hers for almost three full months before they'd vanished without warning some years ago, her soulmate disappearing off the map in the space of a blink, as quickly as the gun that had punched the clock into bone in the first place. She told him this with a brittle smile, told him that it wasn't up for discussion ever again, and Tony had felt…something. Like food poisoning, but much worse. Guilt, maybe, or nerves.

After that, when his TiMER remained stubbornly blank, Tony had the alarming thought that maybe he wasn't just killing time until his soulmate appeared, until he found that person who could tolerate him beyond a doubt. There was always the possibility that his soulmate had died, that they would never wear a clock, that he would never know. It was almost unfathomable, but Tony had to consider it.

If someone like Pepper had lost theirs—and she was good, wonderful, patient and kind—then what chance did _he_ have? Someone who collected and discarded people, who was always late and never listened when he should, who hadn't cried at his parents' funerals and who made jokes when he shouldn't…well, he was certain he had more bad qualities than good. The idea that there was someone out there for him suddenly seemed much more unlikely than the alternative, and Tony told himself—with conviction and in writing, because JARVIS would remind him—that he could and would change. He could change for a soulmate that might just be waiting for him, if he was lucky.

When his TiMER lit up with numbers one day while he was on his way to a board meeting, he nearly fell over in shock.

****

If Bruce had been a stronger person, he would have avoided romantic entanglements after his first brush with disaster. If he had been a smarter person, he would have learned to wait. Seventeen years, after all, wasn't nearly as long as nineteen had seemed; any children resulting from his impermanent indiscretions now wouldn't even be fully grown when he met his One, and what sort of father planned to walk out on their children before they were adults? Not Bruce, that was for certain, and so logically, he thought the temptation to be loved, to be cherished before his time, would fade.

This didn't turn out to be true, but then, Bruce hadn't counted on Darryl. Darryl, who was an artist without a TiMER but with a camera, and who seemed to have no compunctions about buying Bruce a drink even after seeing his wrist.

"Six-two-five-five," he read, shaking his head with a gleam in his eyes that made Bruce's heart pound, different from his reaction to Amy but no less strong. "That's a long time to wait, you know. It must get awfully lonely." He drank his bourbon with class and a move straight out of old movies, and Bruce had been hooked. He hadn't expected it, and he didn't think before taking Darryl's offered hand and following him.

Darryl passed out in his lap not twenty minutes later, but since Bruce had never been one for one night stands, that wasn't exactly a problem for him. Darryl liked him well enough and Bruce _wanted_ him, and they dated—if that was the term—for seven months. Darryl never commented on his TiMER although he occasionally kissed the skin just below it, and Bruce, for whatever it was worth, was happy.

Darryl introduced him to Patrick on Bruce's twenty sixth birthday. Patrick was…nice. Another artist, another man without a TiMER, one of Darryl's coworkers and someone who would be doing a gallery showing with him the following fall. Bruce saw their connection immediately, and the late nights, the canceled dates, suddenly all made sense. Darryl wasn't cheating on him because he wasn't that kind of guy, but their breakup, when it came, was expected all the same. By all appearances, Bruce took it in stride, and maybe he internalized it more than he should have.

Bruce…well, Bruce had never been anyone's first choice.

Darryl and Patrick did end up getting married, years later. Despite their best efforts to stay friends after their mutual decision to part ways, Darryl forgot to send Bruce an invitation.

Bruce told himself he would have thrown it away anyway.

(He wouldn't have.)

****

Despite Tony's best efforts to become a better person, he couldn't help but think the phrase "too little, too late" often in the years that followed. After Afghanistan and Yinsen and those terrifying moments when he realized he had a battery in his chest, when he feared it had somehow screwed with his TiMER, he wondered if maybe someone was punishing him for living a careless youth. Not for the promiscuity—he refused to believe that fun had by all was actually a punishable offense in these matters—but for other things, other crimes. Mainly, Tony wondered if maybe he shouldn't have paid a little more attention to the politics of all of it, of Stark Industries and their glamorous achievements. Who was sent what, where his missiles went, what all his money meant: these were questions he couldn't answer, not initially. Having the lovely Vanity Fair show him those photos had been a shock, yes, but he wasn't stupid enough to think this was the first time it had happened. Tony had just…never cared to know, before, and that was something worth noting, a black mark on his record.

He cared now, or at least Iron Man did. After Obie—or Stane, rather—betrayed him further and nearly killed him twice, Iron Man became more of a presence than Tony had intended, a hero by anyone's definition. It wasn't Tony they praised in the headlines, but he thought that it was close enough when pressed. Surely it had been good to give the world a hero, even if the choice came too late. Surely it had been good to try and make amends, not just to appease a ticking clock but for his own conscience. Surely it was worth noticing, worth something _decent_ , worth erasing just a little of the bad.

When his life turned to a _literal_ ticking clock just months later, Tony had to laugh at the irony. He laughed, tapping the glowing blue of his TiMER as he thought about writing an apology. He thought about sending it out after he died, broadcasting it across every channel and every air wave: _sorry, but I'm dead. Don't miss me._ He thought long and hard, even drafted a preliminary copy, but in the end, he just couldn't bring himself to show it to Pepper.

He loved her in every way that counted and she loved him just as much, he knew it. But he couldn't show her, because she…she wasn't his. If he was going to bare his soul, he wanted it to mean something, to comfort somebody. So instead of an apology, he wanted his last days to be blasted across the news, him at his worst so that whoever saw it wouldn't do anything but _move on_. He wanted that for whoever-it-was, because if they were supposed to love _him_ , they were made of stronger stuff than the average person. They could manage without him. Eventually.

Nick Fury was having none of that, however, and after he and Natasha came and gave him a helpful, figurative kick in the pants, Tony wasn't either. He could do this. He could _do this_ , and he did, despite the odds. He survived.

The rejection letter from the Avengers Initiative was a little like a killing blow, but Tony had expected it. Still, he huffed and made a good show of offense, pulling out rational arguments, SHIELD's one weakness. Fury just tapped Tony's TiMER gently, the normal social boundary a little moot after seeing Tony going through his version of death throes just days prior.

"Only a few years, Stark." Another tap, and Tony was forced to consider the idea that maybe this rejection was _good_. He still didn't like it. "Right now, we'd just like to use you as a consultant. It's…safer that way."

Tony snorted. "Yeah, whatever. You couldn't afford me."

Despite his words, Tony did consult after that, even waived the fee. It was only logical, after all; for all he knew, his One was part of SHIELD.

****

After Bruce had his little accident and the Hulk happened, he told himself that he'd found his future: running. For the first time in his life, he wasn't lonely; there was always another presence in the back of his mind, an anger at everything, and Bruce told himself that whatever dreams he'd had, they weren't worth anything now. The numbers on the inside of his wrist mocked him, a constant reminder of everything he couldn't have. His One—whoever they were—would be terrified of him, would be in danger always, would be forced to live on the run even if they worked past that fear somehow. Bruce didn't wish that on anyone, especially not someone he was supposed to love with all his soul, and so for the first time in nearly twenty years, he…let it go. Hope. A chance for happiness. Love.

More than once he considered just getting the TiMER removed. It was a hindrance; every time he paid the subscription fee, Ross and his men found him, followed his credit trail. Barring that, he considered letting the numbers fade, letting them disappear like he tried to, considered hoping that his One would find someone else and be happy and safe. And sometimes at night he watched the seconds tick away, and he told himself that the next morning, he'd do it. He'd let go completely.

As it turned out, he wasn't that selfish. Even when he got low— _very_ low, and only the once—he didn't want to do that to them. They'd think he'd died, and maybe they were pinning different hopes and different dreams on meeting him. If it was removed…they'd never know, they'd always wonder. They'd understand once they met him, in any case—they'd understand that in his case, the science was _wrong_. He wasn't meant for anybody.

Bruce told himself that any decent man would break their soulmate's heart in person, and he told himself, just once, that he could be that man.

His TiMER zeroed out not six hours after SHIELD found him.

****

Pepper had promised to stay with him the night his TiMER zeroed out, but for the first time in many years, Tony's plans went awry. She'd shot him an apologetic look as she'd left and promised him, no matter what happened, that she'd shake his soulmate's hand or slap them across the face as necessary (and damn the lawsuits). Tony was oddly touched, enough that he almost didn't mind that he had to be alone on the most nerve-wracking night of his night (barring, to be perfectly fair, any night spent in Afghanistan and any number of nights he spent working on something truly urgent.) He almost didn't mind but he still blamed Phil-Agent-Coulson for taking away his last shot of comfort before the big plunge. Before his future, one way or another.

As it had always been, though, the TiMER was quickly forgotten once Tony got to work, and the files SHIELD had brought him were _extraordinary_. When his TiMER zeroed out, he didn't even notice, wrapped as he was in research and readings.

****

Bruce deliberately avoided everyone's eyes once he was on the Helicarrier. It was only delaying the inevitable, but he did it anyway, couldn't help it. Instead, he compromised by rolling up his sleeves past his zeroed TiMER, a social faux pas. If someone was looking, they'd find him, and maybe, if he was lucky for once, he'd get a single moment together with them before it all went wrong.

Natasha watched him, looked at him like she understood perfectly, and he couldn't believe it. Not with her TiMER-bare wrist. But as he saw her watch the footage of Loki's attack, as he felt her stand beside him without flinching, he thought he was wrong. Just this once. He entertained the thought that maybe he was wrong about…other things. He, despite everything, hoped.

When Tony Stark walked onto the bridge, walked towards him, Bruce met his eyes.

****

The chime was loud, distinct, and Tony noticed that it was _not_ followed by applause. Everyone seemed too shocked to move, and Banner—that's who that was, Bruce Banner, none other than the Hulk himself—looked _relieved_. Uncertain. Hopeful. Embarrassed? None of those reactions added up to "revulsion," but Tony wasn't exactly counting.

He felt it, a rush of joy, of _connection_. Tony was pretty sure it was love at first sight, and he was grinning as he stuck out his hand.

"Good to meet you, Dr. Banner."

Dr. Banner—Bruce—smiled, and if any applause followed, Tony didn't hear it.

****

End

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfills a kink meme prompt, located here: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/12672.html?thread=28214400#t28214400
> 
> Also fulfills the prompt for "soulmates" on my Avengers Table.
> 
> Also, sorry! It was mislabeled in the warnings; this is now fixed!


End file.
